The Price of Power
by M.A.Ghoul
Summary: Prussia and France have a discussion about the Holy Roman Empire during the signing of the Treaty of Pressburg.


The Price of Power

It was the cold stone wall against his back and the grip of the Prussian's hands on his collar that made Francis fully realize just how deep his trouble ran. In all honesty, he knew it had been coming. Ever since they had arrived to sign the Treaty of Pressburg he had been waiting for it for days, fretting and worrying and generally annoying the hell out of his boss. And now it had come. The younger boy stood silently for a moment, fists curled in the lace and cloth of the Frenchman's outfit, body shaking and head lowered. Francis chewed at his lower lip for a moment, then opened his mouth to speak.

"Gilbert, my dear friend-"

"Don't you dare call me your friend, France," Gilbert spat, finally looking up at him. Francis winced, seeing the rage in the kingdom's eyes. Gilbert stared at him for a few moments then spoke- no, snarled: "You killed him."

"Gilbert, please, listen to me. He was a series of states with little control over any of them. The child could barely speak without spitting blood. It was only a matter of time until-"

"Only a nation can kill a nation. You think it was because his king backed out or that his states would not unify? That's why you say he's gone? No. I watched it happen, France. I watched you kill my brother at Austerlitz_._"

Francis' eyes widened as confusion filled his mind. Gilbert had been at that battle? No... The Prussians only received news of that after he had crushed the Austrio-Russian army...

"B-but, you weren't- You couldn't have been there-"

"Brother, Francis. _My brother. _I was there. I went there to protect him, to help him."

"But Prussia didn't-"

"Gilbert did. I was almost there, too. I saw you. His hat was under your feet and he was on the ground in the mud and before I could get to him you ran him through. And that was all it took, right? I mean, he was a kid. To humans he would have been a few years younger than me, right? Thirteen, fourteen? And sickly, too. Don't forget that. He must have been easy to kill, right?" With each word Gilbert had lifted him higher, knuckles pressing through the cloth into Francis' throat, body pushed up against his. Francis didn't look down at him, refusing to meet his eyes though he could feel the Prussian's boring into him.

"Gilbert, I- I am terribly sorr-"

"Don't say you're sorry, France, because I know you're not. You were doing all you could to expand your empire, right? I mean, under Napoleon you can defeat just about anybody, right? No one to fucking stop you from killing and killing and kill-"

"You are speaking as though I am the only nation that has ever killed," Francis murmured. "You are acting as though I am the only nation that has ever brought about the end of another. Are you forgetting who killed Rome? Or the fact that Rome himself killed hundreds of nations, tribes, and cities? I am not the only one who has ended the life of a nation, Gilbert!"

"But you were the only one who killed Holy Rome!" Gilbert jerked his hands, pulling Francis away from the wall only to smash him into it not even a second later. He held Francis' gaze and Francis held his, noting the tears pooling in the other nation's eyes. The Prussian looked back down and Francis grabbed his wrists gently, pushing him away. The scar that encircled his neck throbbed as the pressure was taken off of it, but he pushed the thought away for the moment, watching the other nation and waiting for him to say something; anything. When that didn't happen he sighed, shaking his head.

"I was not the only one who killed the Holy Roman Empire. He had been dying for so very long. You saw it, Gilbert. We all saw it. He could barely hold himself together. His states were fighting, none would unify... He was sick and in pain and I put him out of his misery."

Silence stretched between them. Francis fidgeted, raising a hand to play with a lock of hair before quickly dropping it and finally settled on wringing his hands. Gilbert stood silently, head bowed and face unreadable.

He lifted his head. "Did he ask you to do that?"

"Did he ask me to do what?"

"To put him out of his misery, as you put it. Did he ask you to treat him like a horse with a broken leg? Is that it? Am I angry at the wrong person? Should I be angry with him instead?"

"No- I- That is not what I meant! I just meant- I- You do not understand that-"

"Stop trying to make excuses, France. I already know what happened. Holy Rome is dead, Veneziano is alone with only Austria and Hungary to comfort her, I am missing a brother, and it is all your fault. You killed him."

The cold flat tone of Gilbert's voice only made the words fall on Francis harder. He bit his lip, staring at the carpet under his feet and at a loss for words. It was true, that was for sure. All of the things he had said. But he couldn't stop now, he couldn't let himself feel the guilt welling up inside him. He had to keep going, keep building his empire one step at a time. He had to grow stronger, more powerful. He couldn't let a thousand mourning brothers stop him, let alone a single one.

"...I did what I had to do, Gilbert. My boss is helping me expand, and just because it is causing you pain does not mean I am going to stop my progress. The Third Coalition is done. I won Austerlitz, and with that I won the Coalition. It ended the life of your brother as well, and for that I am truly sorry. I will even be the one to tell Veneziano that Holy Rome is dead. But no one's sorrow will not stop me. I was weak from my Revolution, but now I am growing strong again, and quickly."

"Well I'll stop you, then. No one should lose their brother or father or whatever the hell else, but as you did what you had to do, I will do the same. I will keep you from growing any stronger, I can promise you that." Gilbert turned on his heel, foot steps echoing through the empty meeting room. Francis waited, watching his back retreat, watching the silver hair turn a corner. And once the door slammed shut Francis slumped against the wall, unable to stop the tears from falling.


End file.
